


Darkest Dungeon: One and the Same

by SwallowDen



Category: Darkest Dungeon
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 07:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13542516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwallowDen/pseuds/SwallowDen
Summary: A leper and an abomination have a frank discussion.





	Darkest Dungeon: One and the Same

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another story: one of my shorter ones, I'm afraid. I haven't had any time to write for a while now, for work-related reasons, but I had started working on this story a while ago and I finally got the chance to finish it. As always, comments and criticism is highly appreciated.
> 
> Secondly, I'm pushing myself and trying to write something much bigger: my first long, multi-chapter fic. This will be centered around the brigand invasion of the hamlet, something which I always found incredibly exciting and frustrating. I'm going to use this story to try and fully flesh-out all the characters I've introduced so far, as well as the other strange creatures that call the Hamlet home. Like I said, comments and kudos's will always bring a smile to my face.

“Why do you hate me so?”  
The leper had been kneeling in the pews, silently praying for the continued strength to withstand his affliction. The church was one of the few places in the estate where he could truly feel at peace. Its stately grandeur, made physical by ancient stained glass and tall, floating buttresses gave him fond recollections of home: of a grand palace, adoring subjects and a loving family. It reminded him of a time before, when he could stand tall among his compatriots and bask in their devotion. A time before the disease truly made itself apparent.   
He turned slightly to see who would interrupt him, and hissed quietly in disgust. Sitting in pews two rows behind him was a man huddled in robes, clutching his arms to himself. Bowed over as he was, the large, scarred letter on one side of his face gleamed in the sunlight drifting through the stained-glass windows. His eyes, one dark and one a sickly shade of green, were fixed upon the leper, who scowled silently under his mask. His affliction had to have struck him dearly indeed, for him not to notice the clanking of chains or the foul, animalistic scent that seemed to surround the abomination.  
Talbot leaned forward, reaching to the broken sword at his side.  
“How dare you profane the sanctity of this place with your presence. Your very existence is an insult to the Light. Leave, before I do what the others should have done a long time ago.”  
If the outcast was offended or afraid, he showed no sign. He remained sitting, moving forward to lean his thin, scarred arms on the back of the bench in front of him. One arm pulsed for a second, the veins turning a shade of green and the nails on his hand seeming to rapidly grow, before he grimaced and the limb returned to normalcy. He continued to stare at the warrior sitting across from him.  
“I understand the fear and disgust of the knights, the monks and the preachers. They do not know what it is like to be cursed, to struggle on despite the fear and hatred of all who behold you. But you? You, of all people, should understand suffering from an unwanted gift.  
The fallen king was struck dumb for a second, then rage overtook him. In one swift movement, he stood and marched to the abomination, pointing his wrapped hand and spitting angry words.  
“You are nothing like me. I was a father, a king! I was given this burden to remember that all men are but dust before the Light, and that pride and strength are the roads to folly! I surrendered everything for the sake of this burden! You are nothing but a monster, a demonic wretch. I know not what witchcraft courses through your veins, but your affliction,” He roared, “is the result of your actions and yours alone!”.  
Throughout his tirade, the man had sat silently, his mismatched eyes steady. As Talbot finished and began to cough, he slowly stood up, and sidled into the main path through the pews. He stood, slumped over, then straightened his back and looked the leper in his eyes.  
“I will not deny that I have made mistakes. I will not deny that I sought this power, heedless of consequence. But now I live with constant reminders of my failures, of my crimes. “ At this, the outcast finally turned away. “You are not the only one who seeks penance, old king. We are both here, in this twisted place, to fight for the Light. Regardless of our appearance, or our crimes.”  
The leper paused, conscious of how his voice had echoed in the hallowed halls. He turned and saw Norbert, the young chaplain who cared for the church and those who prayed there, standing silently by the altar. He stared at Talbot reproachfully, and the leper bowed his head in wordless apology. He turned back, and thought for a second. Looking down, he noted that his hand had begun to bruise from the death grip he had on his sword’s handle: his gift had blocked all pain, but if his hand were to become crippled, he would suffer regardless. Finally, he eased his hand from the hilt and let out a long, trembling sigh.   
It was difficult, at times, to remember the past. When he ruled, he had been a holy man: he followed the teachings of the Light, and had shunned those who would turn from it or who would seek to harm the Light’s followers. In some cases, this had led to executions: monsters put to the sword, to save his people from their machinations. But others were simply lost: men, women and children who through a twist of fate, had turned to anything to survive. These were not offered justice, but mercy. A hand, not a fist. Talbot’s shoulders slumped. How far had times changed, that a benevolent lord had become a raving zealot   
The outcast was almost at the great wooden doors to the church when Talbot called out after him.  
“Sauvigni.”  
The man paused, and turned back, his mismatched eyes sad and suspicious. Apart from the priest, it was the first time a follower of the Light had called him by his name.  
The leper slowly walked forward. Each step, his back straightened and his posture improved. In front of the abomination, he stood tall and proud: no longer a battered, enraged old warrior, but a king who dealt judgement and mercy in equal measure. He looked the outcast straight in the eyes, and spoke in low, measured tones.  
“I cannot fight by your side. It is already difficult enough, to fight under my burden, to believe that I am right to continue fighting, without being accompanied by my affliction in living form. I am sorry, but I cannot. But;” And now the leper held out his cracked, bleeding hand. “I would speak with you. And I would pray with you.”  
Sauvigni looked down at Talbot’s hand, and tentatively placed his own crooked hand in the king’s massive fist. He looked up, and smiled quietly: for a split-second, the lips on the right side of his face peeled back and his canines gleamed in the church’s candlelight, seeming to grow sharper. Then he shook his head sharply, and his features were again as human as they could be. The leper king saw it all, and nodded. He could understand fighting a relentless opponent: the thick, stained blood trickling from his hand was proof of that.  
“It would be an honour to pray by your side, King.” The leper turned back to the pews, slowly and carefully kneeling.  
“Then let us pray for grace together, brother.”


End file.
